The Wizard's Tournament
by WinterD
Summary: AU. Every other year, the Wizard's Tournament is to be held in an arena set up by the Regime. This year is going to be the 26th, and two more Champions from Hogwarts are to be picked. One that is picked no one is surprised by: the other, no one at Hogwarts saw coming.


Title: The Wizard's Tournament

Rated: M

Summary: Every other year, the Wizard's Tournament is to be held in an arena set up by the Regime. This year is going to be the 26th, and two more Champions from Hogwarts are to be picked. One that is picked no one is surprised by: the other, no one at Hogwarts saw coming.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. owns all things Harry Potter. The idea for the Hunger Games came from Suzanne Collins.

AN: Yeah, so, this is like the 3, 478 version of Harry Potter in the Hunger Games. I don't know why I like the idea or why I think it's a good idea to write this; but this has been stuck in my head for about a week now. Therefore, I thoughts I'd try getting down. This is most likely going to turn into a Dramione fic. I'm warning you now. If you don't care for the ship, then this isn't the fic for you.

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**Prologue**

The spring rain had been falling for nearly an hour by the time the dark skies started to turn from their gloomy gray to a disturbingly inky black. There wasn't much thunder or lightning with the storm; just an occasional grumble in the distance to accident the steady shower that fell down upon the Burrow. Hermione sat at the window and watched the streamlets slide down the reflection of the crowded living room against the glass. They sat engrossed in the radio that was turned up so loudly that anyone in the house would be able to hear it, but Hermione was doing her best to ignore the scratching shrieks from Rita Skeeter as she recounted to the audience what was happening inside the arena. This was the final, and she wanted to be sure that no one missed any of the excitement.

"Oh, my. Miguel Jaimes has Sophia Romanov trapped in a deep ravine that has a good stream running through it. She is sloshing through the water as fast as she can, but he has his arrow trained on her. Ladies and gentlemen, this might be the end for the Champion from Province 10."

"Blimey," Ron breathed as he sat on the edge of the tattered couch with his fingers laced. "Why do you reckon she went into a ravine?"

"Shhh," Ginny hissed as she sat curled up against her mother. Revulsion and worry were etched on her on her brow as she listened carefully to her father's radio that sat on top of the family's television. She didn't want to hear (and thankfully didn't have to watch this time since it was part of the Muggle's Games) but was readying herself for the end.

"Yeah, quiet down," George agreed from his place on the floor.

Sarcastically, Fred added, "It's not like we want to miss anything."

"More like the Regime doesn't want us to," George pointed out.

"Shush up, the both of you," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Be a bit respectful. They deserve that much at least."

That seemed to silence the pair of them, who slumped back against the pillows they had been leaning on.

Sighing, Hermione leaned her head back against the window. After all they had been through with the Tournament, she couldn't fathom how any of them could bear to listen. Logically, she knew that they didn't have a choice. Everyone under the Regime were require to either listen or view the Games and the Tournament. Noncompliance was, to be frank, not an option if one wished to continue to remain with ones family and for them to all be safe. Still, Hermione couldn't shake that small bit of rebellion that boiled in her stomach and pleaded with her to just turn it off and damn the consequences. She wouldn't, though. She couldn't bring that kind of trouble and heartache upon the Weasleys after everything that they - and herself - had already had forced on them. Instead, she settled with sitting herself as far from the radio as she could in the living room as she tried and failed to focus solely on the rain falling outside.

Hermione hated to admit that it wasn't working.

Silently, Mr. Weasley reached for the volume and turned it ever so slowly up. It wasn't that it really needed to be any louder, but it seemed to give him something to do as they waited for Skeeter's next words.

"He loosened his arrow," Skeeter said with far to much glee for someone watching the brutal murder of yet another muggle child. "Oh, goodness. I can't believe it! It missed!"

Ginny and Ron exchanged glances, while Mr. Weasley tapped at his lips with his knuckles.

Mrs. Weasley held fast to Ginny and placed a hand on Ron.

The twins sat up a little higher.

Hermione just watched them in the window.

Skeeter continued her commentary with breathless anticipation. "She has seen him now, and he's out of arrows. What's this? Miguel has pulled his hunting knife and is climbing down the ravine to confront Sophia directly. Let me tell you, listeners, she is waiting for him and ready to fight."

Hermione couldn't help it. She found herself visualizing what Rita Skeeter was describing. She could see Miguel Jaimes, the fifteen-year-old boy from Province 4, dirty and battered and bleeding from various injuries that he had sustained over the past week of his fight for survival sloshing through knee high water as he went after Sophia Romanov, a seventeen-year-old from Province 10, who was just as dirty and far more dangerous than Miguel probably realized standing waiting for him. It was hard to know exactly how many she killed, since things get a bit muddled at Section One, but her official death toll was seven. Miguel's was just three.

"Miguel has reached her and swings his knife at her, but Sophia ducks so he misses," Skeeter said. "She blocks his second attempt and - oh my! - she has hit him in the throat with a vicious jab. Miguel is struggling to breathe. Yes. Yes! Sophia has knocked the knife from his hand and has tackled him into the water. It's a little hard to see, but it seems as if they are both struggling to get the upper hand."

Skeeter's voice was not practically vibrating with excitement.

"They are trying to hold each other down in the water. For all you wizards and witches who are listening to this and not watching, you are missing a terrific battle, but I will try to my best to convey what is occurring.

"Sophia is kicking Miguel, but the water is slowing her down. Miguel is still backing away, though. Dear Merlin, she has launched herself at him and knocked in flat into the water and is now trying to drown him. He's under, listeners, and all I can see is his arms and legs splashing around her. This could be the end."

Hermione pressed her lips. She always hated this part: the part right before someone died and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"He's still struggling to get up, but it doesn't look good for - Merlin's beard! He's just stabbed her in the side with the knife she threw into the water! Sophia's falling. She's in the water. Miguel is on top of her now, and he's stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. The water is so full of blood that you can't even see the rocks anymore."

A small, muffled explosion echoed dully through the radio, and the Weasley clan seemed to relax a little upon hearing it. They all knew what it meant.

"And that's the end, ladies and gentlemen. Sophia Romanov of Province 10 is dead. Miguel Jaimes from the mountain town of Bossot is the new Champion, which brings us to the end of the 26th Muggle Games. Tune in Saturday night when the Victor's Celebrations where we will have we will be speaking with Mr. Jaimes. And don't forget to tune in next year when we will be televising the 26th Wizard's Tournament. Broadcasting live from the capitol of the Regime, this is Rita Skeeter signing off."

As the national anthem of the Regime began to play, Mr. Weasley switched the radio off. The room was sharply silent for a moment afterwards and the only sound that could be heard was the clicking of Mrs. Weasley's knitting needles.

Ginny sniffled a little and rubbed at her nose as Ron sat back against the couch. His shoulders and head slumped lowly against the cushion, and Hermione wondered how he could stand reclining that way.

"So that's it then," he said.

"They have their new Victor," Mr. Weasley replied as he stood up from his chair. "Nothing more to do now than wait for the Celebration."

"Well, I for one am glad to have a few days more with you children where we don't have to listen to such an awful thing any longer," Mrs. Weasley said as she placed a kiss on top of Ginny's head before she stood. "I best floo Percy and see if he wants to come over on Saturday."

"Good luck with that, Mum," Fred said as he and George lifted themselves from the floor.

George agreed, "He'll be wanted to attend the Ministry's party this year, I bet."

"Maybe not," Mrs. Weasley replied. "We've always come together during the Celebration. Even last year after the Tournament."

Uncertain eyes glanced from one another around Mrs. Weasley, but no one dared to try and tell her otherwise. Instead, Mr. Weasley walked over to his wife and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on," he said quietly to her. "We'll see if we can get hold of him. He's probably still at work, though."

They exited into the kitchen, but Hermione could still hear their muffled voice softly speaking through the walls. The twins simply stared after their parents for a moment or two before disappearing up the staircase.

Stretching out her legs, Hermione unfolded herself from the window seat and went to join Ginny and Ron on the couch. By now Ginny had curled up next to her brother and had her head on his shoulder while Ron had a protective arm around her shoulders. It was always odd seeing Ginny like that. She was usually as brave and stubborn as the rest of her family, but every year she became clingy towards them during the week of the Games or Tournament. Harry had noticed it too and had asked Ron once what had happened to cause her to become like that. Ron had simply shrugged and said that Ginny had been like that since she was a little girl, but it had gotten particularly bad when she was six. Harry and Hermione hadn't needed to ask for any information beyond that.

Rolling his head towards Hermione, Ron asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ron," Hermione replied as she stared straight ahead at the radio.

The three sat on the couch silently for several minutes. Ron fidgeted a little next to Hermione, but she was too busy trying not to notice how much extra room there seemed to be this year. Still, she found her eyes drifting towards the small empty space between her and the armrest.

"Do you think they'll show it?" Ginny asked. "At the Celebration on Saturday?"

Neither Ron nor Hermione had to ask what she talking about.

"I doubt it," Ron said. "They usually only show highlights from this years Games."

Ginny didn't look that convinced.

"Ron's right," Hermione agreed. "They don't think that a bunch of Muggles would care about seeing something that happened last year during the Tournament. Especially now that they have their new 'Victor' to dote over. We won't have to suffer through it again until next year."

Just the mention of the next year caused Ginny to shiver before she clung a little tighter to Ron. Hermione herself didn't particularly care to think about it either, but she had long ago stopped letting it scare her. She couldn't offered too.

"Hey, don't worry," Ron said to his sister. "We still got a year before we've got to worry about that again."

A year. He made it sound as if it were ages away, but they knew better. Before any of them knew it, they would once again be standing in the Great Hall, lined up by House and age, waiting to hear who would be picked to be sacrificed this time. But before that, they would make them stand and watch in the enchanted ceiling the highlights from the last Tournament. It would probably be especially lengthy reel as well consider how 'special' the 25th Tournament was.

Hermione's eyes drifted towards one of the walls where three pictures hung quietly in place. Each young man that stood in the separate portraits had determined looks on their face and wore Champion's uniforms that were similar in design. They were all young. They were all fighters. They all had black ribbons strapped across the corner of their portraits.

The newest one smiled uneasily at her and gave a small wave as if he weren't sure what else to do. The black and red Champion's uniform fit him well enough but still looked a bit big on his fourteen-year-old body.

He was always so skinny for someone his age.

"It's getting late," Hermione said. "I'm off to bed."

She didn't wait for a response. Hermione just stood and hurried up the stairs to get away from that awful radio and television set where she had bared witness to so many deaths. But especially get away from Harry's portrait that now hung under Bill and Charlie Weasley's.

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AN2: So, what do you guys think? Should I continue or not?


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